Gotham: A New Night
by Jokester of Hearts
Summary: Gotham is plagued by darkness. Crime runs rampant with new and darker figures vying for power of the dying city. Long has its Dark Knight been dead with no new hero to take up the mantle as the city's silent protector. But tonight, that may all change. A new night is falling over the city and a new knight may rise to quell the evil that befalls the once great city of Gotham.
1. Prologue

_Dark is the shadow that lay cast over this wretched and dying city._

 _For so long, a plague has ravaged it._

 _For so long, death and destruction have caused those who remain to lose all hope._

 _Since its hero has gone, darkness once again rules over._

 _Who is to save these poor souls from the evil that befalls it?_

 _Who is to save…..Gotham City?_

A small light flickered in the dirty and dank hallway of the apartment complex.

Wallpaper peeling from the walls. Flies hovering around the single, flickering light, casting a shadow on the discolored rugs adorning the floors.

The door slammed opened and the cold, night air snuck in with a dark figure stumbling in.

" _Drunk again ye' bastard?! Slam me doors again and I'll 'ave ye' kicked out in no time!_ " The heavily accented landlord shouted through the walls.

The warning was all but ignored as the dark figure continued on through the hallway until reaching an old, ratty door.

Turning the key, the door opened and in the figure stumbled.

"Long time no see….." A voice said from the shadows.

Quickly, the figure spun around and reached for the lightswitch.

Sitting in the armchair was a rather tall man. Dark hair draped down to his shoulders. A black tattoo on his left cheek. A scar above his left eye.

"Wha…What are you doing here?"

The tall man chuckled to himself.

"Bannon O'Reilly…..You look terrible…" The tall man said, slowly standing and beginning to move towards the drunken man.

"Stop! Don't come any closer!" Bannon shouted.

The tall man sighed.

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?" He said as he continued to move closer.

"I wouldn't call us friends….."

"Now why would you go and say a thing like that? For so long, we worked closely together. For so long, we were damn good at what we did."

"Yeah….Until you went and set that daycare on fire. There…there were children….Innocent little children in there…."

The tall man stopped in his tracks, a look of rage his expression now.

"INNOCENT! NO ONE IS INNOCENT!" He cleared his throat and relaxed himself, regaining his composure before continuing.

"Bannon…..As I have explained before, the burning of that daycare was a necessary step. Who knows what madness those…..children would have wrought upon this city? What they could have grown up to be? We do not need any more martyrs or heroes believing they can save this city. Its day to be consumed by the darkness has long passed. With no one to stop it, this city can be ours for the taking. Remember the dream Bannon…..We were going to rule this city. Unopposed. Unchallenged. Until you had to abandon that dream. And for what? Some children who would have died regardless? If not then, they would die eventually. Better to save them from that uncertainty than allow them to live and never know when they would meet their demise. At least in that daycare, they had a modicum of an idea that their end was at hand."

The tall man reached Bannon and stood in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders.

"I need your skillset Bannon. You are vital to the plan. Together, we can finally achieve our dream and take this city once and for all. All you need do….Is say yes."

The drunken man looked into the taller man's eyes.

All he saw was black and an emptiness….A void where none dared enter as nothing lived there besides rage, hatred and death.

If there was any man even closely to being wholly evil, it was the man standing before him.

No remorse….No regard for anyone or anything…..Just aspirations for power and for death.

This was someone he could never associate himself with again.

It had been a grave mistake the first time around and he would not make it again, even if it cost him his life.

"I….I cannot….."

The taller man sighed, a look of disbelief on his face.

"That is too bad Bannon…." He was saying.

Bannon suddenly felt a sharp pain shooting through his chest.

Blood began to trickle down his lips.

"We could have been gods. They would have feared us. They would have given us everything. No one would have been able to stop our ascension to the top. But pride….That was always your weakness. A proud man is a weak man. And you have proven your weakness for the last time….."

The room began to turn black.

Bannon coughed and hacked up blood as the knife dug deeper into his chest.

And then…..it was over.

 _Dark is the shadow that lay cast over this wretched and dying city._

 _For so long, a plague has ravaged it._

 _For so long, death and destruction have caused those who remain to lose all hope._

 _Since its hero has gone, darkness once again rules over._

 _Who is to save these poor souls from the evil that befalls it?_

 _Who is to save…..Gotham City?_


	2. Chapter 1: Devil's Night

The small diner at the corner of Oakmont and Freeman had been there for almost as long, if not longer, than Gotham had been a city.

Wendy's Diner and Grill was the name of the establishment owned by old Wendy Riverton herself having been there from the age of seventeen to now well into her seventies some say though no one really knew how old Wendy was and no one really bothered to ask as they just liked to come up with their own myths and stories regarding her age and background since she rarely ever talked about herself. Some said she was older than Gotham itself having lived for thousands of years dating back to long before the United States even existed. Others said she was the real founder of Gotham City and elected to let others govern the place while she ran things from behind the scenes. The resident drug addicts and potheads saw her as some mythical being trapped in the body of a mortal sent down from the heavens themselves to be a watcher and guardian over Gotham and its less fortunate souls. The real wackjobs and cokeheads thought her the devil and would occasionally flee from her whenever they caught sight of her or she passed them by on her way to the diner each morning, night and afternoon. But, she was still a well-known person around Gotham from the lowest beggar on street to the richest man in the city to even the Governor himself. Which is how the patrons of the diner were some of the most diverse in all of Gotham.

The interior of the diner was nothing special, having the same look as many of the old fashioned diners from the sixties or seventies. The vintage barstools and booth seating. The old jukebox in the corner with the classic tunes. Even the kitchen looked similar to that of an old fashioned diner minus the updated appliances to keep up with food and safety needs.

Tonight's patrons consisted of a few stock brokers on their way home after work. A few strippers on their way to work. Johnny Shoehorn, the resident drunk and pothead from the nearby "weed complex" down on O'Leary. Mr. and Mrs. McQuaid, the elderly couple from the Darby Nursing Facility on Oakmont. And a biker from out of town.

That was until a young man, who looked no older than twenty five years of age, entered the diner and sat down at the counter.

Looking around, he took in the sights and patrons before turning back to the old woman standing in front of him.

"Hello dearie. Anything I can get for you?"

The young man nodded.

"I think I would like the ham and egg omelet with a side of hash browns and a glass of cranberry juice." He quietly said to the older woman.

She took down his order and moved into the kitchen.

Looking around again, his eyes fell upon the young waitress taking the orders of the elderly couple sitting in the regular booth by the front window.

Janie Stevenson…..She wasn't the most popular girl in school. She largely kept to herself. Much of her time was spent with homework or in the library. But she wasn't a bad looking girl either. She was pretty. She had long brown, curly hair. Green eyes covered by a pair of silver rimmed glasses. She was a thinner girl, but not to the point of bone thin. But definitely not the sort of girl who would associate herself with a young man from the slums….At least that's what he assumed.

And he was a young man from the slums. His story was the same as any other. A mother who worked three jobs just to put food on the table. An abusive step father who would beat them during drunken stupors or if the mood just presented itself to him. And so he spent most nights just wandering the city streets. No direction. No intended goal…Just to get away from the life he lived if even for just a moment.

And on this night, he ended up here…At Wendy's Diner and Grill, preparing to eat a ham and egg omelet with a side of hash browns and a glass of cranberry juice….Or so he thought.

Tonight was no ordinary night. Tonight….was Devil's Night.

And what was Devil's Night? Every year around the 13th of October, the worst scum and villainy of Gotham would flood the streets and exercise their demons with little to no resistance. Not because it was allowed or set forth by law, but because much of the police force was either corrupt or too few in number to stand up to them and much of the politicians were bought and paid for by the mafia bosses that ran the different districts of the city. And so it was Devil's Night because that was what the evil of the city dubbed it.

It was also surnamed for the devil that corrupted the city streets with his fear through fire, death and destruction. A man with no name known only by the black symbol upon his face and the scar above his left eye. Stories of his exploits struck fear into the hearts of even the most vicious of killers. None sought to get on his bad side, though still his power only ran so far as the mafia bosses often butted heads with him causing war in the streets.

Day or night, it did not matter. Blood was spilled on both sides as they vied for control of this broken city.

Devil's Night was soon to begin and the patrons and diner workers did what they could to hurry themselves along so they could reach their destinations and do the best that they could to survive on this night….This…Devil's Night.

"Dylan Drake right?"

The young man quickly turned his head around, the young waitress standing over him.

"Janie Stevenson. We're in home ec. together." She said to him.

The young man nodded.

"Yeah…I know who you are."

Janie cleared her throat and sighed.

Dylan turned back around.

"Not the best night to be up and about. It's Devil's Night you know. All sorts of assholes will be out looting and raping and killing…"

"Then what are you doing out here then?" Janie asked him.

Dylan kept a cold and blank look on his face, trying not to think of what awaited him at "home".

"Maybe you should just worry about finishing up your shift and going home." He bluntly responded to her as his food was finally brought out to him.

Janie had a sort of hurt look on her face and so turned away from him and returned to the kitchen.

It had been a bit harsh, but Dylan just wanted to be left alone.

Devil's Night or not, he just wanted to be left alone.

Screams erupted from the apartment.

The sound of a woman begging for her life could be heard, but to no avail.

A gunshot soon put an end to that.

Out of the room came three men.

One was a large bald man with a handlebar mustache, tattoos on every inch of visible skin. He wore a jean vest and blue jeans and what used to be a white tank top that was now a sort of yellowish color from repeated use, wear and tear. The most distinctive feature about him was the tattoo that covered the baldness of his head. It was of a dragon fighting a hydra amongst a cloudy, rainy lightning storm.

The second was a shorter man with a buzz cut. He had a stubble on his face, more of a five o'clock shadow than anything. He wore a leather jacket and black sunglasses with ripped, blue jeans and a white tank tip underneath. He had a tattoo of a zeppelin on the right side of his neck with flames surrounding it, most likely a nod to the Hindenburg Disaster of 1937, though it was a wonder this guy was even educated on the subject.

The third and final man was a heavier set man with long curly hair. His features could be attributed to those of the Walking Dead's, Eugene Porter, except with a little more dirt, grime and grease. He wore a leather vest, a white tank top, leather pants, black sunglasses and black boots.

"She was a fine piece of ass wasn't she?" The taller thug questioned with a grin.

"That she was. That she was." The shorter thug responded as the exited the apartment complex.

A dirty 1990 Ford Thunderbird sat outside, parked on the sidewalk just in front of the complex.

The three thugs hopped inside.

The heavier set thug grabbed a bottle from underneath the seat and handed to the shorter thug in the driver's seat.

"Time to meet our next victim boys! Hahahaha!" He laughed as his foot hit the gas, a loud skidding sound filling the night air as they sped off down Freeman St.

Dylan took another fork full of his omelet and shoved it in his mouth, the food tasting much better than the slop his step father brought home and all but force fed him and his mother.

As he went for another bite, he heard a scream from outside and the loud screeching sound of tires on the road.

He looked out the window to see a car barreling towards Janie Stevenson, the young waitress.

Dylan jumped up from his seat, knocking over the plate full of food, the sound of shattering glass as both plate and glass hit the floor.

Everything seemed to slow down as Dylan made his way out the front door towards his classmate.

When seemingly looking death in the eye, one typically sees their life flash before their eyes.

But not Dylan.

All he saw was darkness…

And then a figure appeared in that darkness….

A bat…

Time suddenly returned to normal as Dylan ran straight into Janie, knocking them both to the ground as the vehicle crashed right through the entrance of the diner.

"Fucker!" A voice shouted from within the car.

Three men slowly emerged from the vehicle.

Dylan quickly looked to Janie.

"RUN! RUN!" He shouted to her just as the thugs took out their respective weapons and began sprinting after Dylan who took off on foot.

Footsteps were all he could hear behind him as the three men pursued him through the streets.

His mind raced as he continued along the road towards the city limits.

 _Maybe they'll stop there. Maybe they'll turn back._

In his mind, he only hoped that the men chasing him would end their chase once he stepped out of the city lines.

The moment his feet hit the dirt road, his head swung back to see if he was right.

But…It was for naught.

The men still pursued him.

They had found their next victim and they would have his head tonight.

And onward he ran as he followed the dirt road.

His legs began to hurt.

Sweat dripped down his brow.

Devil's Night would soon end with the death of Dylan Drake.

But suddenly, the ground beneath his feet gave out and a hole opened up as he fell through.

All sound ceased.

Dylan knew he was screaming as he fell, but it could not be heard.

His eyes locked on to the moon in the sky until all he could see was darkness.

All that surrounded him was darkness.

And in his mind, this was the end.


	3. Chapter 2: A Grave Celebration

"Master Wayne…..Master Wayne!"

Bruce's eyes shot open and darted to the older, well-dressed gentleman standing over his bedside.

"Master Wayne….Your guests will be arriving any moment now for the gala. I have arranged an outfit for you to wear. That is all that is required of you. Every other detail and aspect has been taken care of. The menu, the décor, the guest list….All prepared while you slept."

Bruce chuckled and sighed.

"I am lucky to have you Alfred. I don't say that often enough, but if it weren't for you, I don't think I'd even have the ability to tie my own shoes let alone live the type of life that I do."

Alfred moved away from the bedside and began heading towards the door.

"It is not your day time routine that concerns me sir. It is other escapades that worry me."

Bruce frowned at this and sat up.

"I know I am not getting any younger. It will end Alfred. Someday….It has to…."

"Master Wayne….There will always be evil in the world. And in Gotham City. You have always based your time as Gotham's protector on the end of crime in the city. You give others the responsibility of determining when it is time, but only you can decide when Gotham no longer needs Batman."

Alfred then quietly left the room, leaving Bruce sitting in bed, a somber look now forming on his face.

Alfred was right…He was leaving the decision up to the people of Gotham. They would always need a protector. Someone to scare away the monsters underneath their beds. Someone to drag out the monsters from within their closets. 

But he was getting older.

His body wasn't in the best shape.

Injuries plagued him daily.

Every night that he went out into the city to stop a crime, the fight in him depleted.

No matter how hard he tried and how much willpower he exerted, it wasn't enough.

There was too many of them and the criminals outnumbered the protectors. The police department no longer had the leadership it once did. He had fewer and fewer allies than he once did.

Tim Drake….James Gordon…..Jason Todd….Barbara Gordon….Dick Grayson….

He had sadly outlived them all.

All that he had left now was Alfred…..His most trusted of friends…..The one who had been there from the start. The one who had been there through it all and whose trust and faith in him never wavered….Never faltered. The one person he could count for anything and everything. The one person he could count on to always be there. The one person he knew would never leave his side. And if he was being honest? There was no one else he'd rather have had endure this with him.

Bruce was suddenly broken from his trance and train of thought by the sound of music playing from downstairs.

Getting up from his bed, he grabbed his suit and quickly threw it on before running out if his bedroom and to the grand staircase.

He cleared his throat, straightened out his clothes, moved his hand through his graying hair and slowly descended the staircase as partygoers looked on.

These people….These were the richest and wealthiest of Gotham. They did not know of the struggles faced in their city. These people…Who sat in their own personal kingdoms and castles, not knowing what is was to life a life of hardship and poverty. These people….Who would never know of the horrors that he saw every night as he patrolled the darkened streets of their city.

Yet still he entertained their every greedy fancy. Their every selfish whimsy. He liquored them up and pandered to their unending egos. Feeding into their unnecessarily lavish and outlandish lifestyles. And still….He never questioned why. In fact, he never really thought about it. Why did he still host these people in his home? He no longer had to keep up with the image of being a corporate CEO. Other men and other minds ran that former aspect of his life. There was no woman in his life who wished for him to shower her with gifts and invite friends over for drinks, dinners or to grand parties. So why were they here tonight? Why were these sycophants and false faces here in his home?

And his eyes fell upon his old friend…Alfred Pennyworth….And all thoughts of these people and their self-absorbed existences flew from his mind and a grin spread across his lips.

"Treasured friends….Honored guests….It is a pleasure to have all of you here tonight in celebration of a new day in Gotham City. For many years, Gotham City has been known as the greatest city in the world. While it may not always seem that way, the people of Gotham always prove why that moniker holds true. The people of Gotham City are some of the best in the world. Kind, hard-working, loyal…The great traits and attributes that define the people of this city. That define the heart and soul of Gotham right down to its core. And it is these people that we celebrate tonight. With the money we raise here tonight, we will build new schools, new housing, new shelters. But what we will really be building here tonight….." Bruce looked at Alfred and smiled. All he wanted was to make him proud….

"Is a new future for Gotham City." He grabbed a glass of champagne and raised it up.

"A toast…To a new and better future for our great city and its great people…the lifeblood of Gotham. Without them, this city would never and could never be as great as it is. To Gotham!"

"To Gotham!" The partygoers cheered in unison.

Loud clapping suddenly cut through the cheering and everyone turned towards the source.

Bruce looked through the crowd.

"Harvey…."

"What a magical night you have had here. Quite the party Wayne. A shame it has to come to an end."

Harvey pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed it at Bruce.

Bruce was too far away to retaliate and disarm him.

Was this it? Was he to die here?

Suddenly, Alfred grabbed Harvey from behind.

"Master Wayne! Move! Now!" The older man shouted just as Harvey spun around.

A gunshot rang out just as Bruce began to make his move.

It was as if time froze and everything had come to a complete stop.

A look of complete shock came across his face as Alfred slowly fell from Harvey's grasp and slumped to the floor.

"ALFRED!" He shouted as he charged at Harvey and tackled him to the ground and rage just came over him.

Right, Left, Right Left…..His closed fists met each side of the man's disfigured face. No relenting….No mercy.

And he didn't stop.

It felt like an eternity as his fists just kept hitting and hitting and hitting….

Tears streamed down his eyes….He had broken his one rule….

Now covered in blood, Bruce crawled over to the fallen Alfred and held him in his arms.

"Alfred….Don't die on me…."

Alfred had tears in his eyes, but still he smiled up at him.

"It…It has been…Been the greatest honor…To serve you sir…"

Bruce slowly shook his head.

"No…This isn't the end. Just hang in there….You're going to make it…"

Alfred placed a hand on his cheek.

Suddenly he began to cough up blood and then…he went limp.

"ALFRED!" Bruce screamed at the top of his lungs.

His butler….His mentor….His most trusted advisor….He friend…Was gone.

For what felt like a long time, Bruce just sat, holding Alfred in his arms…Unmoving….Unspeaking….

His words resonated with him. The ones spoken just before he had left the room.

" _There will always be evil in this world. In Gotham City….._ _Only you can decide when Gotham no longer needs Batman._ "

Did Gotham City still need Batman? Did it still need…him?

Now that his most trusted friend was gone, was defending this city even worth it now? Everything he had for for….Everything he had fought to preserve and to protect…It was all gone. Everyone he had ever cared for…Taken from him. What left did he have to fight for?

Bruce looked towards the ceiling, just staring….

What would Alfred have decided had their roles been reversed? Would he have given up? Would he have run when all seemed lost and hopeless? Or would he have used this to make him stronger? Used this to inspire him to fight one last fight?

He nodded and clenched his fists.

Gotham….It still had evil that plagued its streets. Monsters that still threatened its people.

Tonight….Tonight would be the beginning of the end. Gotham would be set down a path where it would no longer need Batman because after all was said and done…Gotham would no longer have to worry about evil because Bruce Wayne….Batman…Would put an end to it all.

He would fight it all until his dying breath.

Bruce slowly stood, his fists still clenched.

"It ends tonight…."


	4. Chapter 3: Caves, Mansions & Revelations

The slow dripping of water spurred the young man from unconsciousness.

Slowly he sat up, looking around to where he had fallen to.

 _Where exactly was he?_

It was cold, dark and damp. It was almost as if he were in some sort of cave.

 _But how was that possible? There were no caves in Gotham City….Were there?_

Just as the question entered his mind, suddenly a small dark figure rushed past his face.

He ducked down and threw his hands over his hand, shirking away from whatever it was that had startled him.

For a few moments, he remained in that state, unsure whether or not he should look for fear of it potentially being a harmful creature.

After he believed enough time had passed, he slowly opened his eyes and looked out from underneath his hands and arms to see a small bat perched on a rock just feet away from him.

"A ba…."

Before he could finish, his eyes lingered upwards towards the ceiling where what seemed like hundreds of bats hung, some sleeping, some looking curiously at the young man who had stumbled into their home.

He remained frozen, eyes unmoving from the bats above his head.

"You've really gotten yourself into a pickle now Dylan…."

He couldn't just sit there forever. He had to move sometime.

Seizing a quick moment, he shot up and just ran, but suddenly bright lights flashed on, blinding the young man.

When the blinding effect went away, only an expression of shock and awe remained on his face.

"What is this place?" He said looking around at the sight before him.

Various equipment, computers, crates, boxes, littered the cave before him. A large computer terminal was centered in the middle with a largely cracked helipad and rundown….Well what looked to be a tank sitting on a spot just before the cave exit.

Slowly walking forward, he was unsure of just what to think of this place.

He had never seen or even heard of anything like this place as long as he had been alive.

"This.… This is amazing…." He quietly muttered to himself, still in awe of what he was seeing before his eyes.

"It has been a long time since last someone entered this place…" An older voice said.

Dylan quickly brought his hands up and jumped into his best fighting stance.

Standing before him was an elderly man, a bit hunched over with a cane in hand. Wearing a black suit, white shirt and a long black tie with a full head of white hair and squinted eyes behind a set of black spectacled glasses, he looked up at the young man.

"Who….Who are you?"

The older man simply smiled.

"Just an old codger who has been waiting a very long time for someone to finally find their way here. It has been so long since anyone besides myself walked through this place."

Dylan gulped and took a deep breath.

 _What had happened to the other people who had been in this place? Were they dead? Had this old man killed them?_

The young man took a step back, still in fighting stance as he looked over the older man.

"You have nothing to worry about. I won't harm you. I don't think I have the strength to do so anyways. I am far too old to even begin to try and hurt someone. The best I could probably do is hit them with my cane. And that is if I can lift my arm high enough…."

The old man suddenly started…to laugh?

Dylan quirked an eyebrow at the old man.

 _What in the world was the old man's deal? So weird….._ He thought to himself.

"I jest young man….I still have some strength in me yet. How do you think this place stays so dapper and clean?"

A moment passed before once again the older man laughed.

"I jest again. This place is quite a mess. But it is a good thing that you are here. I could use a hand cleaning it up."

Dylan cleared his throat and just stared at the man.

"I'm sorry….What's that now? I don't remember saying anything about staying here."

The older man sighed.

"Your best option IS to stay here. Or would you prefer to take your chances out there where those awful and dangerous looking thugs could still be searching for you?"

 _Damn…He had forgotten about those thugs. They were the reason he was in this place and in this situation in the first place. He really did have no choice but to stay here….At least for now._

"Fine….I'll stay. But….There are some ground rules. First, don't sneak up on me again. It's creepy and just….Just don't do it. Second, my life is my life. No questions about it. Yeah? I don't know you and you don't know me. We keep it like that. And third? Just don't sneak up on me."

The older man chuckled.

"Alright…Alright…"

Using his cane, the older man motioned for the younger man to follow him.

Dylan just gave him a look.

"You didn't think we'd be staying in this dark, damp cave did you? Oh ho…No no….Come….I will show you where you will be staying." He said as he began walking up the ramp.

After what seemed like eternity walking behind this snail of an old man, they reached an old service elevator and hopped in.

"Going up…" The older man said, pulling down the lever.

The elevator rose and rose, the dark cave being replaced by even darker walls.

 _Where in the world was he?_ He couldn't help but think to himself again.

The elevator reached its destination.

"Here we are…"

The old man used a hand to push the wall in front of him open and stepped through.

Dylan followed and what he found on the other side astonished him.

Sitting just through this wall was a fairly large library.

"We're staying in a library?"

The older man snickered.

"The sad truth is few left remain who know what this place is. And just simply a library, it is not. This….Well…Best to keep following me."

And follow the old man he did, through long halls adorned with paintings and other decorations. Had there not been dust and cobwebs, this place would have been a sight to behold.

They soon reached the main hall where the grand staircase sat.

"We…We're in…a mansion?" Dylan asked, looking around at the large entry hall.

"Not just any mansion dear boy….This…Is Wayne Manor."

Dylan slowly looked around, once again in awe at what he was seeing.

His eyes then fell on a statue in the center of the room just by the staircase.

He walked over to it and used a hand to wipe away the dust from the plaque that sat on the front.

" _Though wealthy he may have been, humble and generous was he. Where many knew him as a partier, rich, arrogant and otherwise, those that really knew him, knew he was something more. A loving father. A great son. A hero in his own right. In memory of Bruce Wayne._ "

Dylan looked back at the older man, a puzzled look on his face.

"Bruce Wayne?" He simply asked.

The older man had a somber look on his face as he peered at the statue.

"In the public eye, he was nothing more than the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne. A high class, rich kid with a spoiled life and an attitude to rightly fit it. But to those closest to him, he was something more. And to this city….He was nothing but a savior…A protector…A Dark Knight….."

From what the old man said, this Bruce Wayne….He seemed like a one of a kind person. But still….He had never heard of him.

"How did you know him?"

The older man smiled, a small tear running down his cheek.

"I knew him…as a father….I am his son….I…am Damien Wayne."


	5. Chapter 4: Further Into Darkness

Long was the night…..As it had always been.

Darkness covered the city, lit only by the odd street light here or there.

With the death of an old friend, this was no ordinary night….The same old rules…..They did not apply. No….On this night, vengeance was the only thing on his mind. Someone would pay for his murder….Everyone would pay….

Bruce sat atop the church, looking down upon the city below….This crime-ridden city….The one he had sworn to protect for so long yet, it never seemed to be enough. But tonight, that would change. He would take no prisoners as he always had. Tonight, he had to abandon his morality….His humanity….

Dent….He was dead….The time for being the same Batman…The same hero…It was over. This city, the villainy…It had to come to an end. Tonight, he would make a difference…A new Batman was on the prowl. Who would be joining Harvey Dent in the afterlife?

A scream soon removed him from his trance.

He looked down to see a young woman, barely clothed, her blouse ripped open and blood dripping down her cheeks, running down the street. She looked back every few seconds to make sure she was getting farther away from her pursuer. But the hooded man, who now came into the light, continued to follow her, quickly catching up.

 _Not tonight…..Your terror ends now…._ Bruce thought to himself as he removed the batclaw from his belt and fired it towards the building across from him.

Latching on, he slid down it towards the building, jumping just before he reached it.

He let himself drop to the ground just in front of the hooded figure who staggered backwards and fell mid-run.

"The terror you inflict ends tonight….for good." Bruce said before lunging at the hooded figure and grabbed them by the throat.

The hood fell to reveal a young man no older than eighteen years of age.

Fear filled his eyes as he looked at the masked vigilante before him.

"Pppplease….Ddddon't….." He cried out.

Bruce grit his teeth, the feelings of old beginning to creep up on him.

But his mind soon wandered to Alfred….Gunned down in cold blood by scum just like this young man….

"STOP!" A voice shouted from behind, forcing Bruce back into reality.

He turned his head to see an old friend standing, gun drawn.

"You shouldn't be here…." He quietly muttered to the older man.

The older man shook his head.

"Put the boy down…..We can talk this through…..This isn't you….What happened at the party….Alfred….Harvey….It wasn't your fault. It was beyond your control. I know….I know you want to save everyone, but sometimes.…We can't. We can't save everyone. And I know you're in pain….But you can't let it consume you. You can't let it change you. You're a good man….I know you are. You can't let what one twisted man did take away what makes you good….What helps you rise above the rest and make this city…This world a better place. What happened to Alfred….It was tragic. The loss of a man who can never be replaced. But if you lose yourself because of this, then you are doing his memory an injustice you can never return from. You will forever be remembered for this one night rather than the lifetime of good you have done. You know that better than any. All of the men and women you've put away…..They fell down the dark path you're treading on. Don't be like them…..Rise above it…..Please….For your own sake and the sake of the people….They still need a hero….."

Bruce turned to look away from the older man, whose words were deepening into his own thoughts.

 _Was he right? Alfred was gone….Would giving up his own morality truly desecrate the memory of his old friend? Or would avenging him by finally eradicating the city of its villainy be the right path?_

Bruce stood there, trying and struggling to decide what the right thing to do would be…..What path would he go down? Would he remain true to himself and the rules and morals he had set for himself? Or would he go down this new, darker path of vengeance to, in his mind, honor his friend's memory and definitively finish what they had started those years ago when he first took up the mantle of the Batman?

In the moments Bruce took to make his decision, Gordon had inched closer and closer in the hopes of freeing the young, hooded man from his grasp. Not to save him from justice, but to ensure Bruce didn't do something he would someday regret.

 _It's time to decide Bruce. What kind of man will you be?_ A voice said within his head.

Bruce looked up from the ground, the young man still in his grasp.

A tear fell down his cheek and he let out a sigh.

"I'm sorry Alfred….." He quietly said, removing a Batarang from his belt.

"Bruce no!" Gordon shouted as he lunged forward, just as Bruce began to drive the Batarang into the young man's chest.

Gordon connected with the pair, knocking both to the ground.

Bruce let out a groan as he hit the pavement, letting go of the Batarang before he could drive it any deeper into the young man.

Gordon reached for Bruce's arms, cuffs in hand.

The young man fell backwards, howling in pain as he hit the ground. He moved to take the Batarang out of his now bleeding chest and once he had it, he jumped forward towards Bruce and Gordon.

Gordon looked up quickly, just as the young man was above him, kicking his leg out and striking the young man in the chest where his wound was.

The young man screamed in pain as he fell back, dropping the Batarang and hitting the ground hard.

Bruce took this opportunity to roll out of Gordon's grasp and grabbed the older man by the arm, pulling him close.

"Jim…Forgive me….." He said, tossing the old man to the ground before bolting into a nearby alleyway.

Gordon fell back, hitting the pavement before rolling over, using the adrenaline to jump to his feet and make a beeline towards the alleyway. But once he got there, Bruce was gone.

"Bruce…..What are you going to do….." He questioned out loud, but only so he could hear it.

The street was dark…..Lit only by a few odd streetlights. Surrounded by the night, Bruce was once again left to his thoughts, sitting upon the church roof once more, looking down at the scene he had left below.

He would be a wanted man for sure…..He would be hunted….Driven out….Cast out…..

Where would he go…..What would he do now?

WHO would he be now?

 _And after a long hiatus, the story continues._

 _Bruce has continued his descent into darkness following the death of his old friend, Alfred Pennyworth at the hands of Harvey Dent, whom he murdered with his own bare hands._

 _So begs the question, where does Bruce go from here? Will Jim Gordon hunt him? Will Bruce come back to the light? Or will he continue down this dark and self-destructive path he now finds himself on?_


	6. Chapter 5: A New Night

Dylan sat at the long dining room table, staring across at the older man, puzzled and curious now more than ever.

"So your father….This Bruce Wayne….He was some sort of masked vigilante who beat up criminals and roamed the city at night….as a bat? I don't know….This seems all a little far-fetched…."

Damien chuckled and shook his head as he poured himself a glass of wine.

He took a quick whiff before sipping on it.

"Not many remember my father. Even fewer remember the Batman and what he did for this city. He was the hero this city needed, whether they cared to admit it or not. Far be it from me however to muddy that legacy by butchering its tale. No…..It is better that his story remain in the past where it should be. The tale of the Batman is one different from that of Bruce Wayne in that, unlike Bruce Wayne who can only live on in memory and spirit, the Batman….Well….The symbol can live on through others. The mantle….It can be passed on. Renewed. Its purpose brought to light once more. My young friend….This city needs a hero now more than ever before. Darkness has consumed this city for far too long now. Corrupt souls plague it….Drive fear into the hearts of its people. This Devil's Night…..It is but one day in many that the people suffer. Except on this night, none fight it. That….That must change. But I am far too old now to take up my father's mantle. For as much as I would love to and defend the few good people left in this city, my age prevents that. No…Someone new…Someone…Younger….Must take up the mantle…." Damien was saying as his eyes fell upon Dylan.

It took him a moment to come to the realization, but once he did, he hopped out of his seat and frantically shook his head.

"No….No no no….Not me….I am not a hero. I'm not the right guy for this. I'm scum. I'm from the slums. I'm not some rich, playboy….."

Damien only smiled as he took another sip from his glass of wine.

"And you need not be one. The Batman is not about who is underneath the suit. Though, it is an important part. No….The Batman is a symbol of the good this city can be. It is a reflection of the inner good of the individual underneath all of that armor. My father was no saint. He was no pristine individual by any measure. But he was committed….Committed to making this city a better place. By protecting its people from any and all evils that may befall it. From maniacal, homicidal clowns to gangsters and far stranger individuals, my father vowed to bring all to justice despite his own personal demons….In spite of them even. It does not matter where you've come from. It matters where you go once you don the cowl and after that matters. The path you choose once you assume the mantle…That is what defines you."

Dylan frowned as he mulled the words over in his mind.

"So what….I just grab some guns and go find a bunch of criminals?"

Damien shook his head.

"No….No killing. It was the one thing that separated him from all others. His rule that none should die by his hands. Justice….While tempting to eliminate these bad people permanently…..The decision would be left up to the people of this city. He would not be its judge, jury and least of all, its executioner. He would do whatever it took to bring them to justice, but their fate lay in the hands of the people. And he would do so through non-violent methods."

Dylan bit his lip and quirked an eyebrow.

"Non-violent? How does that end crime?"

"It's not about ending crime. It's about sending a message….One of hope. One of courage. One that the people could get behind and believe in. A symbol of the good that this city could be. A figure they could follow through the darkness because it in itself refrained from indulging in the very darkness it sought to quell…."

Dylan was starting to understand and nodded, yet was still unsure if he was good enough to take up this mantle.

"But why me? Why should I be the one to take up this mantle?"

Damien slowly stood and walked over to him, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I cannot say whether or not you are the right person for this. I could be making a huge mistake. But….This city needs a protector. It needs a hero willing to fight for it and its people. So while there may be doubt as to whether or not you are worthy or even ready, I have faith that in time, the truth will reveal itself. And I believe you are far more capable than you believe. I have a feeling that I am making a far better choice than either of us would care to admit. So Mr. Drake….Will you take up the mantle of this city's protector? Will you don the cowl of this Gotham's Dark Knight? Will you become….The Batman?"

Dylan looked into the older man's eyes, searching for the answer, but all he could see was that moment back at the diner….All he could see was the countless nights that his stepfather would come home from another drunken bender and raise his fists to his mother and his failed attempts to protect her….All he could see was that dirty 1990 Ford Thunderbird chasing after him and his fall through the hole….All he could see….was darkness.

It was at that moment he realized what he needed to do…..

"I will….I will become the Batman….."

 _And with that, Dylan Drake has made his decision…To become the Batman._

 _But will he be able to live up to the legacy that comes with it? Does he have what it takes to be the hero Gotham needs? Will he be able to save the city from the darkness?_


	7. Chapter 6: Thrilling Journalism

" _ **Headline:**_ _ **Devil's Night Upon Gotham Once More, But A Bigger Story At Hand**_

 _By Dale Hilbert_

 _A year has come and gone and once again, that dreaded and feared night is upon Gotham once more. The one night of the year where the police do nothing and allow the city's scum and dirtbags terrorize the city with no repercussions. But in regards to this year, something different has occurred._

 _Within a year's span, the outskirts of the city take center stage. Rumors were afoot in late October to early November of activity once again being seen up at the old manor outside of the city limits, but it was just that…rumors. That is, until witnesses say they saw large furniture and moving vans coming back and forth in the late hours of the night._

 _And so I decided one night to confirm for myself whether these rumors were true or not. And lo and behold, to my complete and utter surprise, what do I see upon my own personal stakeout but just what the doctor ordered. Moving trucks moving back and forth from the property during the late night hours. I had struck gold. And soon enough, the whole city knew about it._

 _But the question remained….Who in the world was moving in?_

 _Some foreign ambassador? A rich couple from out West? The President of the United freaking States?_

 _Turns out, it was none of them. Just some young kid….But who is he? Some kid who won the lottery? Some trust fund brat from the upper rungs of society? An heir to some old badgers fortune?_

 _Where did he come from and how did he get there?_

 _The big story is that the manor is once again inhabited. But the even bigger one…..Who is living there now? And what secrets does he hide?_

 _I intend on finding the skeletons in that closet….._

 _GothamNews GothamPress DHilbert_

 _Copyright October 12, 2018_ "

Dale sat in front of the laptop in his home office, staring at the words on the page.

Mystery and intrigue surrounded this new development in Gotham.

It had been a long time since a story like this had come across the desk of someone at the Gotham Press that wasn't directly related to the city's corruption or Devil's Night yet one year in the making, he was now preparing to publish the first new story in Gotham in many years.

What would come next with this development? Anything was possible at this point.

Maybe this young kid started a youth program or something. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he joined the countless others that took and took from this city. Who knew? But just the thought of any and all possibilities was exciting.

And now, all he had to do, was to press send and his editors received the story and it hit the press and was on the streets just in time for another Devil's Night.

His finger hovered over the send key.

 _What are you waiting for? Just do it already._ He thought to himself.

Yet he couldn't help but feel he wasn't alone….

"Priorities…..A lost art…Where did we go wrong?" A voice said from behind him.

Dale spun around, frantically looking around the room yet found himself alone.

"Who….Who's there?" He asked, his legs and body shaking.

"Oh….Don't be daft dear Dale. You know very well who we are. We have been with you for a long time now. We just want our turn to come out and play…."

Dale reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a revolver, pointing it around the room.

"Show yourself!" He shouted out.

"Now now….There's no need to get like that. We are friends after all…."

"Friend" You're not my friend. I don't even know you. Now….Show yourself or…Or I'll shoot." He said once more, his voice shaking.

He continued to look around and slowly stood from his chair, walking towards the far wall where the lamp stood.

"Dale Hilbert….You disappoint me. How can you say such hurtful things? Have we not been through a lot together? Have we not dealt with so much? The death of your child? The divorce from your wife? The accident at the freight yard? Or don't you remember that night? Out for a story….The Maretti Case…..Victor Maretti, Gotham meat butcher turned mafia don seemingly overnight. Just had to find out how. A meeting was going down at the freight yard…..Drugs and money were being exchanged. It seemed as though you'd found the perfect vantage point. That is, until your clumsiness got the better of you and you dropped your camera. Maretti's men….They saw you. Bullets flew. One bullet….It struck you in the head….You fell from atop the train car….Broke several bones in your body. Many didn't think you'd make it. But it was on that day….That day we met…..And from then on out, we were inseparable…."

Dale continued towards the lamp, hoping to turn it on and see just who was in the room with him.

"And it was months and months, but soon, we beat that coma together and a new friendship….Partnership was born. We vowed to get back at Maretti. And we nearly did. We found him at his nightclub….The Royale….Oh how surprised he was to see us there…..And we nearly had him….Until you began to have your doubts. Should I do it? Am I that kind of guy? And then….He got away. And you got shot once more in the process. But this time…You got lucky. Only a flesh wound. And then you went to your doctors to…."Get help"…..And you stopped being friends with me. You hurt me so bad…..And I never thought I'd see you again….Until now…."

Memories slowly began to come back to him, but Dale shook his head, continuing towards the lamp.

"I don't know who you are or how you know anything about me, but once this lamp goes on, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger once I see your face…."

A laugh came over the room.

"You've known who I am this entire time….There is nothing left to say….Turn on the lamp and reveal the truth Dale…."

Dale finally reached the lamp, hesitating for a moment to turn it on.

What if they had the drop on him? What if when he turned that light on, there was a gun waiting to go off? What if they were counting on him turning on the lamp just to kill him once he did?

Dale couldn't go back now. He needed to know who was in the room with him.

He quickly reached for the lamp switching and flicked it on finding himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

He spun around, looking around the room, finding it void of any but himself.

"What….But….That doesn't make any sense…..I heard a voice….Someone else was in the….."

He then stopped as he found himself looking in the mirror once more.

Rather than a feature for feature representation of himself, he found a blue suited individual with a cane that had a diamond skull on the hilt, a blue fedora and a pair of blue and diamond encrusted sunglasses sitting within the confines of the mirror.

"Don't you remember Dale? We manifested after everything was taken from you. Your son, your marriage, your field work…..It was all taken from you. And so we needed a way to take back control. And so….I was born….A manifestation of what you were too afraid and weak to do on your own."

Dale slowly backed up, horrified at what he was hearing.

"And this is why I can no longer allow you to be in control. We have sat out for far too long…..Devil's Night is our night. We should be out there doing what we are destined to do….This city should be ours…..And we WILL take it…."

Dale began to sprint towards the door but stopped mid-run and went blank for a moment, the occasional twitch of the body occurring for a split second before he suddenly shook his whole body and cleared his throat.

He walked over to the laptop, sat down and returned to the story in front of him.

He began to make changes to it.

" _ **Headline: Devil's Night Upon Gotham Once More, But A Bigger Story At Hand**_

 _By Thrillkiller_

 _With Devil's Night here once more, we have seen the same old schtick year in and year out. The same old baddies robbing the rich and poor alike. Gangsters and mobsters, thugs and homeless nuts, drawing their guns and shooting down any who cross their path._

 _But is time for new criminals to enter the game._

 _We have sat out for far too long and it is our turn to take what is rightfully ours._

 _Don Victor Maretti thinks himself King of Gotham…Well….We are here to tell him that is not the case._

 _We are coming for you Maretti._

 _Thrillkiller thirsts for revenge._

 _But why Thrillkiller you ask? Well…..It is for the simple fact that we take great pleasure in the downfall of others. Death…..It doesn't have to be simple or boring. It CAN be fun. It can be enthralling if only one puts the effort into it._

 _And what better time to start than on the one night a year where such actions are not only allowed, but encouraged?_

 _Victor Maretti will die by midnight tomorrow night. Devil's Night will soon be known as Night of Thrillkiller._

 _Get your tickets folks….The show is about to begin….."_

Dale Hilbert….or Thrillkiller….grinned as he finished typing and quickly hit send.

"Gotham doesn't know what it's in for….." He said as he stood from the chair.

He walked over to the closet and reached in, grabbing a specific hanger.

After changing, he walked over to the mirror to adjust his tie.

He smiled as he looked at his own reflection…..The one of a scared, frantic and helpless man looking back, fear in his eyes as he looked at the figure that now stood before the mirror…..

"Thrillkiller is here….And he is here to stay..."

He gave one last look and wink to the mirror before reaching over and flicking the lamp switch to off.

 _A new villain has been introduced to Gotham, one bent of vengeance and his own brand of crime._

 _With a new villain roaming its streets, can Gotham handle and survive whatever horror Thrillkiller is about to unleash? With a new target on his back, will Don Victor Maretti be able to weather this new threat to his self-imposed rule over the city? Will a certain "other" villain have something to say about this new player on the field?_


End file.
